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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357542">she's gonna breathe now.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/duelbraids/pseuds/duelbraids'>duelbraids</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interrogation, Medical Trauma, Murder, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secrets, Trigger warnings:</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/duelbraids/pseuds/duelbraids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a small piece of catharsis, the possible start to a new dawn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Edelgard always wondered what those who lived next to her thought of her arguments with her uncle. Of course, Hubert knew, and he would not ask about her new bruise - Hubert had, in some way, gotten used to it. Hilda… The poor thing had to deal with her screams in the nighttime </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the sounds of blows against the wall. Edelgard might thank her for keeping her mouth shut, but then, she thinks that Hilda might genuinely not care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine by Edelgard, or so she tells herself. She has far more pressing matters to attend to, namely her uncle, standing in front of her. A million possibilities spark through her mind - she had not said a word to anyone, had she? No, not here, it was too dangerous, she had not! Her cover was not blown, her friends suspected nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as the Flame Emperor, she tells herself, she has said nothing - aside from her insistence that she does not abide by his ways… Was that it, then? Was it this, again? How dare she put that wedge in, why could she not </span>
  <em>
    <span>abide </span>
  </em>
  <span>his rules? Had they not done this, millions of times over? She puts on a flat affect, still, trying to hold her fear under her skin, “Uncle - why are you visiting this late?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arundel always seemed to scowl, so it is to no surprise that he is scowling now, and chastising her, “Is that how you greet me?” he holds his arms open expectedly, and Edelgard feels her skin start to crawl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-of course not, Uncle,” and she submits herself to his embrace, disgusting fingers through her hair, like clockwork. She knows his game - to use her uncle’s face, to play at this familial relationship, it is all calculated, all done to keep her feeling small, feeling powerless. It is all a ploy - one Edelgard cannot escape from, like the hand that holds her head to his chest. She’ll rip at her skin later, burn it with hot water, anything to get the touch </span>
  <em>
    <span>off, </span>
  </em>
  <span>only to play into his trap. She is too tired to fight back, too tired to disagree, in too deep to back away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard knows Thales’ game, and she wants to stop playing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, she has no choice, and can only breathe a small sigh of a relief when he finally lets her go, and she finds her voice again, “I apologize for my… curtness, it is simply late, and I was readying myself to sleep.” As told by woolen socks and her pink night dress, two ties on her hand to pull her hair up, a step she had not gotten to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your apologies mean nothing,” Arundel says, a chill of winter behind his breath, “We had an agreement, Edelgard - you would let me use the Death Knight, no objections, until your little play pretend at the academy was finished.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clenching her teeth, Edelgard knows this is where she makes the wrong decision. As she did every time, as if he liked to see her fail. The right decision was to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, uncle, sorry, uncle, you may have him back now, uncle, please, forgive me, uncle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It saved her heartache, it saved her a trip to Manuela, it saved her energy for more important fights. And yet, she cannot bite her tongue. “You pushed the line, </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>I would not stand for the abduction of Flayn, what you’ve done is </span>
  <em>
    <span>apprehensible-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough.” And she quiets, because Arundel is already lifting his fist, “A little girl she may look, but that bitch is just as much a Nabeatan as Rhea-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean she deserves what I-” She must refrain - Arundel does not care how Edelgard feels, she needs to make it objective, “She is much younger than the others - surely she is not a part of what the Nabeatans </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>to your-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” He challenges, “You make such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuss, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edelgard, over not being a part of the Agarthan plans, and yet, you do </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to insert yourself into them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I am to recruit people to my side,” Edelgard attempts to counter, “they cannot equate me with such things - they do not see the saint, s-simply the little girl. Shall I have an army of none?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if we cannot provide you with what you need? Humans are useless allies, in any case. You should remember what I told you,” Arundel reminds her, and takes one hand, to lift her chin up. “You need not worry that pretty head of yours - we will tell you where to point your axe, and nations will fall. The Emperor who united Fódlan, they will call you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no wish to unite Fódlan,” She finds the words hard to say, amongst the bile and rage rising in her throat, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I want - for people to be free of the burden of-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crests, yes, you’ve blathered your little spiel enough,” Arundel dismisses, “As if one girl can erase a history.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wishes to argue, “If one woman can create it, how hard must it be to destroy,” but it comes out disjointed, shaky, “The rest of the world is not like this,” Edelgard starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not? What do you know, Edelgard,” He mocks, his tone almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>jovial, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“What do you know, beyond what I have taught you?” Her breath is caught somewhere between her throat and her lungs, and Edelgard cannot breathe, but Arundel continues, “I should remind you, yes,” she sees his hand reach into his robes, and can only guess as to what will follow. “I own you, Edelgard, and all your little ideals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flash of metal alerts her - her eyes catch it, and follow, with single minded pursuit, until there is nothing. Nothing but the scalpel coming towards her, the gloved hands beyond it, her hands tied - and Edelgard trying to flail, helpless, her heart in her throat and pain in her chest. Except, she is not tied, and she does not flail. She reaches back - makes her grab, to try and hold him away, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he cannot do this again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she tells herself. She can’t be there again, on the cold metal table with a tube running out of her arm; she cannot be tied to the post again, whipped until she screams for mercy, she can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife is in his hands, coming towards her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His forearm is in her hand, holding high above her head. They struggle, up and down, her knees bending in. Edelgard giving ground so she might not taste the blade, Arundel taking up her whole vision - every fear comes back to her mind, and she is nine years old, begging someone to help her again. There isn’t much difference in the wooden walls of Garreg Mach and the stone of the castle, not underneath her feet, almost bare, and she still feels small. She still feels like she should crawl up, into the recess of her closet, where Arundel cannot reach her, but then remembers. There is nowhere to hide here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his other hand to hit her. Her lip busts, her cheek bruises, but her grip does not falter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife is in her hand, coming towards his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood has splattered across her pink dress before she realizes what has happened. Through the cotton is gouged skin, gouged </span>
  <em>
    <span>out </span>
  </em>
  <span>from Arundel’s chest. There is a moment, where he stays Arundel, recognition passing. The knife clatters toward the ground, and so does Edelgard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is still Arundel when she shuts her eyes, when she takes her hands and covers her face. The first of many sobs comes out of her throat, tumbling forward, forward and onto the ground. It is overcoming, this first wave of strange despair. Is this mourning, she asks herself. Mourning what? Mourning being beat, mourning the only way she knew? Who is Edelgard, when she is not afraid? Perhaps she is mourning what could have been - she does not remember Arundel for who he is, but for the man wearing his face. But then, she’s sure she was afraid before too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard uncovers her face - she is not nine years old, cowering in her bedroom. She is seventeen, in the hallowed halls of her school, covered in Thales’ blood. She looks at his clenched fist - a fist that will never touch her again, that shall never hold scalpels or whips or syringes again. It does not solve everything - there are those who will come after her for this, and more pressingly, she knows not what to say when someone finds her, when feet rapidly approach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she cannot explain the euphoria of seeing Arundel dead, even as his face twists back to Thales. She cannot explain it - that a smile is on her lips, and she takes a breath in the night. It tastes different now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything can wait - for once, Edelgard is no longer afraid. She cherishes this one freedom, and readies herself to stand. For once, when asked, she will tell the truth. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>to be honest, this is more for my RP blog, however, I think AO3's tags are more useful for trigger warnings. also, this is entirely for my own catharsis. i too wish to murder the abusive men in my life.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>two teenagers play a very dangerous game of chess with a dragon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No, Claude was not getting into any trouble that night. He had actually been studying for the upcoming exam, and got sidetracked somewhere between the recipe for vulneraries and their historical uses in warfare. He realized the hour once he looked up from Chapter Four, his whole attention absorbed by the story of a specific company replacing willow bark with nightshade. They would create a false party for ambush, expecting the enemy to loot the poisoned vulneraries, and during the next battle, their enemies would drop dead without need to lift a blade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How clever, he thought. Claude finished his notes for the exam, and flipped to a smaller notebook. Certainly wouldn’t want to get caught with notes on the scheme - so he writes them smaller, holding the book upside down, and hopes that he remembers where he wrote it. Maybe even think of a way to cut out the false party too. He would hate to be remembered as the Duke who let his soldiers die for a ploy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk from the library is a peaceful one. Garreg Mach did not sleep, not with the changing of the guard and the shuffling of students, trying to get back to bed before they were caught, sneaking snacks or midnight kisses. A few cats follow him step for step, Claude taking extra care not to step on their tails. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One lays herself out in front of him, exposing her white belly. Claude has to stop on his tiptoes not to step on her. Leaning down to pick the offender up, Claude whispers to the cat, “Have you taken to setting me up for affection?” Scratching her head, he puts her back down, and can almost laugh. The cats here were cute, he could admit, even if they blackmailed his affection more often than he likes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he reaches the staircase, he hears a sound behind him. Almost amusingly, Claude could pick out Seteth’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly disappointed father </span>
  </em>
  <span>tone from a mile away. If he is behind… then, Seteth is probably at Byleth’s door, keeping everyone’s favorite new professor from their beauty sleep. It must be past midnight, if the tolling of the belltower was accurate, and he doubts the monastery would allow such a failure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How rude. He wonders: can he get away with chastising the archbishop’s advisor? Maybe not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude takes the stairs two at a time, up as quietly as possible. They creak anyways, but are hidden by the chorus of meows that protest his disappearance. Rounding the corner, Claude cannot help but study before he walks ahead. The hallway is always fairly well lit, so he can’t mistake the man, a red cloak behind him, entering what looked like Edelgard’s room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d mentioned it, that her uncle was here, and she didn’t sound happy about it. According to Hilda, the gossip, Edelgard had a lot of things to be unhappy about. What’s worse, he knows that Edelgard will disappear for a day or two when her uncle visits - a worrying pattern - and Claude would have to wait to have his banter, to annoy her and debate her, flirting disguised as settling a disagreement. Would he ever admit that it upsets him? Possibly, if she wins another chess match.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude finds himself walking just a bit slower, and stopping in front of Edelgard’s room. Their argument is muffled, the oak walls being just thick enough to stop specific words. He can hear her uncle cut her off, hears Edelgard try to counter, only to be cut off again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks on, knowing he needs sleep, knowing the test tomorrow might determine something important, or may not ever matter in the long term. His door stays slightly ajar, as Claude throws his study materials on the bed. Trying to ready himself for bed, Claude quickly changes into night clothes - the argument is almost completely gone, but he strains to listen. </span>
</p>
<p><span>A pointless endeavor, when he hears that shrill, that shriek, that </span><em><span>begging </span></em><span>scream of</span> <span>“No! Stop!” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Pushing past the door, Claude bothers not with closing it, not with anything, just trying to spring into action. He is a man of many knives, and finds the one tucked into his sleep shirt easily. Her door pushes open, hits the wall, and Claude tries to see the scene in the unlit room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First, he eyes Edelgard, holding her knees to her chest, a knife in her right hand, clutched. She is splattered with blood, blood, the red somehow standing out despite the lack of light. Sobbing - the more shocking fact, the ice princess is sobbing, something he’s never seen her do, Edelgard is sobbing and shaking in what he can only guess is fear. Second, he eyes Arundel - or, he thinks it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be Arundel. The body is wearing the man’s clothes, but his hair is short, white, and his skin is even whiter... A powder white, again, marred by crimson, and a slash in his chest reveals the cause of death. The momentary glance at the body tells Claude that much, but his attention is on the living, his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude feels his leg slide against the floor, as he rushes to sit next to her, scrambling to put his own knife away, “Edelgard,” he calls, and he sees some recognition in her eyes, “Edelgard, are you hurt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He tried to kill me.” She tells him, voice quiet. As if he didn’t hear her, she turns her head to look him in the eye, and implore, “He tried to kill me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care about that,” Claude responds. He starts by taking the knife out of her hand, undoing her skinny fingers, and letting it drop. Easily done, given her shaking, and then repeats, “Are you hurt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I’m fine. I’m not dead.” She tells him, like it’s a surprise. The sobbing starts again in earnest, her lips twitched </span>
  <em>
    <span>upwards, </span>
  </em>
  <span>which Claude silently notes, “I’m not dead.” like she barely believes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling her to his chest, Claude doesn’t bother to care that he, too, will soon be covered in blood. He wonders, almost lightheartedly, if the dress is pink, or if it is white, and stained so deeply it only looks pink. The wet of her tears touches against his clothes, soaking through. Edelgard repeats to Claude, “My uncle was trying to kill me - he pulled a knife-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he tries to comfort, but his mind is preoccupied. Claude eyes the corpse - Edelgard still calls it her uncle, then? Do all Adrestians have a secret, second form? Is this the deep, dark secret that she seemed to keep tucked so close to her chest? He raises one hand to cradle Edelgard’s head, showing her his hand, before he completes the motion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seteth cries out, before he even reaches the door, “What’s happened!?” Byleth’s footsteps surely follow, but it is Seteth who brings a lantern, and reveals the scene in its entirety. His eyes are shock wide, trying to understand all this information at once. A strange, pallid man lays dead on the floor, wearing the clothes of Lord Arundel, his fist clenched in post-mortem strength. The princess wears a dress covered in blood, her lip split, and cries with a strange smile on her lips. The noble has the princess in his arms, just the first to discover the scene, his eyes just as wide, just as confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lowering his voice, Seteth turns to Byleth, “Go fetch Manuela and Hanneman, and do not tell another soul.” Byleth, for all their slack jawed staring, agrees, nods, and turns to go. Seteth shuts the door behind him, and in one motion, grabs the loose sheet from Edelgard’s bed. After covering the corpse, Seteth asks, a tone much gentler than anticipated, “Now, Edelgard, can you stand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sniffling, Edelgard nods her head, but doesn’t say much. Claude follows as she stands, one arm outstretched in case she falls. Which, she does, with a start to the side, but catches herself with her back leg. Seteth puts a hand on her shoulder, which Edelgard stares at, </span>
  <em>
    <span>like she’s fearful. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Please, take a seat on your bed, and tell us what happened.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mutely, she nods again, and does what’s asked of her. Well, sort of. Once she gets on her bed, Edelgard draws her knees back to her chest. Seteth sighs, and turns to Claude, “You too. I need both of your stories.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude wishes Leonie or Ignatz were next to him, so he could snidely whisper, </span>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks I know anything about what’s going on here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But, he doesn’t mind being kept around. No, if Seteth wants to let him hear Edelgard’s story, Claude will take the opportunity to be in on the secret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lady Edelgard, start from the beginning. Please, leave no detail out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching as she looks up at the both of them, Claude waits on baited breath. Edelgard sighs, shaky, “I was getting ready for bed when my uncle barged in. He needed to speak to me about something to do with Adrestia.” She lingers on that, looks like she’s going to explain, and goes on, “We started arguing and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouthed off</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him.” She says it so casually, as if she were just a bratty teenager. Edelgard wasn’t looking at either of them, but at her hands. “So, he pulled a knife and I- I panicked and I grabbed it from him-” she motions with her hand, grabbing at the air and slashing, “I killed him. I did not- I didn’t mean to-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand.” Seteth tells her, though he looks more confused than ever. Claude can’t help but feel it too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Isn’t there something big you’re skipping, princess? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’re on the same page, for Seteth tries to lead the questions, “Go on, what happened after?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude sees it, a quick moment, where Edelgard is thinking through her response. She doesn’t seem to understand why Seteth would ask her what happened after - her eyebrows quirked, and then relaxed, just as rapidly. Lips purse, and return back to the soft frown she’s been wearing. “Yes, af-after-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After, he, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>turned </span>
  </em>
  <span>into - the different face.” She manages it, clearly forcing her words. Claude sees this too - that Edelgard is choosing them so carefully, to omit certain words, </span>
  <em>
    <span>to prevent </span>
  </em>
  <span>certain things coming out of her mouth. He knows her thinking face - and hopes that Seteth doesn’t. “Then Claude came in, and then the professor and yourself, and c-certainly you don’t need me to tell anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seteth turns his head to Claude, and asks, “Is that true? You were not a part of this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Claude answers quickly, flatly. “I heard them arguing, but nothing specific, and went to my room. Then Edelgard screamed, and I ran back because I knew she was in danger.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your actions are admirable, Claude.” Seteth tells him, and then turns, and seems to forget him. Coaxingly, Seteth moves closer to Edelgard, who shrinks back, against the pillows. “Now, I know, you have been through something horrible, but can you answer some more questions for me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She eyes him, and though she says, “Yes, of course,” Edelgard grabs at something behind her, a small bear stuffy, and holds it close to her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude wants to go back and hold her too. But, then, he’s just as curious as Seteth must be. What happened, why, and it buzzes in the back of his head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you safe? </span>
  </em>
  <span>People don’t get to be the Emperor’s brother in law by being </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but those kinds of people had all kinds of allies. Seteth starts from what seems to be the top of the list. “Could you tell me, what did the two of you argue about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would prefer not to.” Her tone is </span>
  <em>
    <span>aggressive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sudden. That was the line, it seemed, and do not cross it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Seteth’s wide eyes show him taken aback, “I see.” He sighs, and tries the next question, “Now, you say he pulled a knife. Where is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I dropped it,” she explains, and points her hand out, “over there. Claude took it out of my hands.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seteth goes, turning to what is now a crime scene, and sees what she refers to. It is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange </span>
  </em>
  <span>knife, with black steel and slight curve to the blade proper, and no real pommel. “Do you… do you know what kind of dagger this is?” His voice is raised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Edelgard answers, Claude watching her tighten her grip on her stuffy. Another lie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another lie that Seteth doesn’t seem to catch. This time, the sigh Seteth lets out is more </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoyed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Claude himself moves closer to Edelgard, as if to put space between. “My apologies, I cannot begin to imagine what you must be going through, but please understand, I need you to help me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Her voice raises, frustrated and backing away, once more, “I don’t know what’s happening! I suppose my uncle got tired of hitting me and decided that stabbing was more effective! I just wish to </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “We will… simply wait for Manuela and Hanneman, then.” Seteth stiffles, looks shocked, and turns his back to the two of them. He can’t seem to sit, slightly pacing, staring at the dagger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claude watches him for a moment, but frankly, he doesn’t care about Seteth. No, he cares more about his friend, who’s brought the bear up to her face. “You okay?” He asks, quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she says it, but then a slight laugh comes from her lips. “How could I be?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls her into a hug, and whispers, “You’re playing… really dangerous games.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chess is easier.” she answers, and drops her voice just as quiet, “But that’s not the game we’re playing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs, and then, to cover their conversation from Seteth’s prying ears, Claude speaks a little louder and asks, “You still sleep with stuffed animals?” Let Seteth think he’s just trying to keep her mind off of </span>
  <em>
    <span>it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will have your head, Claude von Riegan, if you tell a single soul,” she snarks back, but it’s half hearted. There’s not much energy left to it, and Claude resolves to bring the points around later - when Seteth isn’t standing right there, when they can be more open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If they could ever be open. No, he must say when, it’s too sad to think otherwise. Instead, they simply sit together, waiting, waiting for silence and waiting for safety.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>well i guess this is a fic now. i am so sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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